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Dark Haven

D ark Haven existed in eternal twilight, its Gothic spires piercing clouds that never quite dispersed. In his private chambers atop the highest tower, Dominic Nightshade watched the footage for the hundredth time.

On the obsidian screen, Luca Valentine floated in a maelstrom of pure light. His power, raw and ancient, made even the oldest beings kneel. The video feed crackled with interference—supernatural power that strong tended to destroy mortal technology—but the effect was unmistakable.

“Play it again,” he commanded, swirling ancient blood in a crystal glass. “The moment he first manifests.”

His spymaster, Xavier, adjusted the viewing crystal. The scene rewound to Luca’s kidnapping. That fool Percy—now very permanently deceased—had actually done them a favor. Without his botched attempt, they might never have witnessed the Valentine bloodline’s true potential.

“Fascinating,” drawled Lord Constantine from his position by the window. “The little prince who fled our city has become quite… interesting.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Though his choice in protectors is unfortunate.”

On-screen, the Whitlock brothers arrived in a display of power that would have been impressive if it hadn’t made Dominic’s fangs ache with irritation. Frost, lightning, and solar light—three alphas in perfect sync, their power wrapping around Luca like they had any right to claim him.

“The wolves are irrelevant,” Dominic said, though the crystal in his hand cracked under sudden pressure. “What interests me is his effect on the ancients.”

The footage shifted to after his power manifestation. Various angles from their spies showed the aftermath—supernatural beings of all species dropping to their knees as his light washed over them. Even Sebastian Blackthorn, that proud aristocrat, had bowed his head in his presence.

“The first true fated one in a millennium,” Xavier noted, his tablet displaying power readings that should have been impossible. “And he’s a Valentine. Your instincts about that bloodline were correct.”

“Of course they were.” Dominic’s smile was all fangs. “Why do you think I had their clan eliminated?”

A heavy silence fell. Everyone in the room remembered that night—the systematic destruction of the Valentine Clan. It should have been complete. But one little prince had escaped, smuggled away to New Vale by traitors who’d paid for their interference with their lives.

“Our agents report increased security around Whitlock Tower,” Xavier continued, scrolling through intelligence reports. “The brothers rarely leave his side. And the Blackthorns are providing additional protection?—”

The crystal in Dominic’s hand shattered.

“The Blackthorns,” he spat, ancient blood dripping between his fingers, “forget their place. As do those wolves.” His power filled the room like living shadows, making lesser vampires step back. “Luca Valentine was born in Dark Haven. His power belongs to us.”

“The ritual chambers are being prepared,” Lord Constantine offered smoothly. “Though extracting him from New Vale will be… challenging.”

Dominic turned to the window, watching darkness gather in the perpetual twilight. “Let them think they’ve won. Let them believe their little sanctuary can protect him.” His reflection smiled, cruel and ancient. “They forget what we are capable of. What I am willing to do.”

Behind him, the footage played again. Luca Valentine’s power lit up the screen, a beacon in the darkness. Soon, Dominic thought, that light would belong to Dark Haven.

Where it should have been all along.

Silver Crown

E ternal winter gripped Silver Crown, its crystal spires rising through banks of pristine snow like frozen dreams. In the highest tower of the Winter Palace, King Isolde Augustus watched Luca Valentine defy gravity.

The observation crystal, suspended in the center of his private war room, played the footage with perfect clarity. Unlike Dark Haven’s gothic drama or Storm Gate’s grainy surveillance, Silver Crown’s magic preserved every detail in pristine resolution.

“Remarkable,” Lord Chancellor Maxwell murmured, his aristocratic features reflected in the crystal’s facets. “Such raw power, and yet…” He gestured to the readings their mages had collected. “No formal training. No bloodline enhancement. A pure, natural manifestation.”

The king’s fingers tightened on his silver staff. On-screen, Luca’s power made ancient beings kneel—the same beings who had sneered at Silver Crown’s careful breeding programs, who had called their methods archaic and cruel.

“Centuries of selective pairing,” he said, frost creeping across the floor. “Countless resources spent ensuring only the strongest bloodlines continued. And this little vampire prince achieves naturally what we’ve tried to create for generations.”

Around the war room, Silver Crown’s most powerful families watched in calculated silence. The Frost Dynasty. The Winter Court. The Snow Clan. All of them had participated in the breeding programs, all hoping to produce a fated one of their own.

“Our agents report he’s untutored in proper etiquette,” Lord Frost offered, his white hair catching starlight. “No formal training in ancient customs. New Vale’s influence, no doubt.” His lip curled. “They waste his potential.”

In the crystal, Luca’s power flared again. The Whitlock brothers moved around him in perfect formation—three alphas acting on pure instinct to protect what was theirs. The king noted how their power synchronized, how they anticipated each other’s movements without communication.

“The wolves complicate matters,” Lord Winter said, his ceremonial armor gleaming. “Their claim?—”

“They have no claim,” the king cut him off. “A fated one belongs in Silver Crown. Where such power can be properly… cultivated.”

The crystal shifted to show Luca after the battle, surrounded by celebrating New Vale citizens. Such common displays of emotion. Such lack of proper restraint.

“Our breeding programs have prepared us for this moment,” the king continued. “We alone understand how to harness a fated one’s true potential.” He turned to his generals, their silver armor reflecting the crystal’s light. “Show me our assets in New Vale.”

Multiple images appeared—Silver Crown agents embedded throughout the city. In businesses. In social circles. Even in the supposedly secure supernatural districts.

“The Whitlocks believe their territory is impenetrable,” Lord Maxwell said, pulling up detailed maps of New Vale’s defenses. “They forget that old money opens many doors.”

“And what of Storm Gate’s mercenaries?” Lord Frost asked. “Or Dark Haven’s hunters?”

The king’s laugh held winter’s bite. “Let them plot their crude kidnapping attempts. Let Dominic rage in his shadows.” His power frosted the entire war room, turning the air sharp with cold. “While they fight over scraps, we will show them why Silver Crown’s methods have endured for millennia.”

On-screen, Luca smiled at something one of the brothers said. Such open display of emotion. Such wasted potential.

“Prepare the Winter Court,” the king commanded. “It’s time we reminded New Vale why the old kingdoms still rule.”

In the crystal, snow began to fall over New Vale. Winter was coming.

And Silver Crown intended to claim its prize.

Storm Gate

M adame Jin’s auction house floated on the edge of Storm Gate’s infamous harbor, where ships from all supernatural realms docked in perpetual mist. Unlike Dark Haven’s aristocratic shadows or Silver Crown’s icy refinement, Storm Gate dealt in a more practical currency: profit.

Tonight, that profit had a name: Luca Valentine.

“Play the aerial feed,” Madame Jin commanded, jade pins glinting in her elegant coif as she studied the multiple screens surrounding her private booth. Each showed a different angle of the New Vale incident, courtesy of their extensive network of spies. “The moment he manifests.”

The main screen shifted to a bird’s eye view. Luca Valentine hung suspended in pure light, his power making even Storm Gate’s most hardened mercenaries lean forward with naked greed.

“Bidding starts at one billion,” Madame Jin announced to her select audience. Pirate lords. Shadow merchants. Assassin kings. All of them drawn by the scent of the greatest prize in centuries. “Though I expect that number to rise significantly.”

“Dark Haven offers blood gold,” Captain Zhao noted from his place near the window, where ghost ships dotted the misty harbor. “Silver Crown promises titles and territories.”

Madame Jin’s smile could cut glass. “How predictable. Dominic thinks in terms of ancient power. King Isolde dreams of perfect bloodlines.” She gestured to another screen showing real-time market prices. “But here in Storm Gate, we understand what truly matters.”

The numbers scrolling across the screen made several crime lords inhale sharply. Black market values. Private collector offers. Underground bounties. All of them rising by the minute.

“The Whitlock brothers will be an issue,” noted Shadow Lord Wei, his face obscured by perpetual darkness. On-screen, the three alphas moved with lethal grace, their power devastating Dark Haven’s forces. “Their security is… impressive.”

“Everything has a price,” Madame Jin said, pulling up detailed surveillance of Whitlock Tower. “Every defense can be breached. Every guard can be bought.” Her perfectly manicured nail tapped one image. “Even New Vale’s famous sanctuary has weak points.”

Multiple feeds showed Luca’s daily routine. His shopping trips with cousins. His visits to various clan territories. The brothers might be vigilant, but they couldn’t watch everything.

“Our agents are already in position,” Captain Zhao reported, spreading a detailed map across the auction table. “The Underground Transit System has… convenient maintenance schedules.”

“And the other cities’ agents?”

“Dark Haven’s hunters stick to the shadows. Predictable.” He marked several locations in red. “Silver Crown’s nobles prefer social infiltration. Tedious but effective.” Blue markers joined the red. “Both groups are so focused on their primary objectives, they’re missing the obvious opportunities.”

Madame Jin’s laugh tinkled like poisoned wind chimes. “Let them plot their grand schemes. Let them waste resources on dramatic gestures.” She turned to her assembled buyers, each representing fortunes that could buy small countries. “We deal in results.”

On-screen, Luca’s power flared again. The bidding frenzy that followed would have impressed even Storm Gate’s most notorious merchants.

“Prepare the extraction teams,” Madame Jin commanded, watching the numbers climb. “Multiple scenarios. Multiple backup plans.” Her smile promised profitable violence. “The highest bidder gets first attempt, but be ready to adapt when they fail.”

In Storm Gate’s eternal mist, deals were struck. Bribes were paid. Plans were set in motion.

The shadow war for Luca Valentine had begun.

And Storm Gate intended to profit from every move.